


Portfolio Investment

by slightlyjillian



Category: Lost
Genre: Multi, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-25
Updated: 2010-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-06 16:26:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlyjillian/pseuds/slightlyjillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sawyer's scam works on married couples.  But a certain unhappy housewife has plans of her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Portfolio Investment

**Author's Note:**

> written in 2005, so it's all limited to S1 knowledge, etc. I think I still had some pretty clever ideas even though the series has spun a very different web for these characters.

The evening was a little chilly for a swim, but Half-Pint liked being caught off guard. She'd become uncomfortable as they sat by the pool, so to ease the tension he'd wrapped his arms around her and thrown them both sideways into the water. She'd surfaced with her mouth wide open both to draw in air and expel a well pleased laugh. Quick to retaliate she attacked him with an impressive splash.

***

He'd spotted her in the grocery store. Hair pulled back, grey sweater with a hood, jogging pants, and sneakers. Fresh from the gym. Shopping in the health food aisle. Comparing prices on soy milk. At first, he wondered if he'd left his proper instincts at home. Housewives that were environmentally sound didn't have much to do with oil scams. Then she pulled her bangs behind her ears and he saw the rims of her eyes. Sore enough to look like she'd applied pink eyeliner. Unhappy housewife. And from the evidence of the Hagen Daas piled in the front of the cart, the soy milk was probably a forsaken ideal.

He followed her with a light step. Watching as she unsurprisingly made her way to the most expensive vehicle in the parking lot. She fell into a pattern of unloading a plastic bag, tucking her bangs back, putting away another bag.

He made his way for the car nearest hers, a more conservative pickup. Jingling his keys and earning her attention. She returned his smile. He never doubted his instincts. He never doubted the ability to charm a woman with a well turned smile.

"Looks like it's gonna rain," He said amiably, leaning against the back of the truck.

She was lonely, but not stupid, "That's what they say." She tossed a final bag into the trunk and began to push the cart back to the store.

"Let me." He came along side the cart, allowing enough distance that she wouldn't find any reason to be immediately alarmed. He noticed the rock on her finger where the knuckles were turning white in their grip on the handle. Whoever the Soy-Milk Princess was, her husband could afford the insurance on that diamond.

"Thank you," she dropped her eyes, then returned his gaze with a small measure of curiosity.

"Nothing to it. My mama," he saw the accent charmed her. "...raised a gentleman."

"I'm sure your mama," she imitated the word with a small amused lilt in her voice. "...is awful proud of you."

His reply was quick, rehearsed, sincere. "God bless her soul. She's been two months gone. I just moved to the area. Had to change the scenery a little."

"Oh, I see. I'm sorry," she nodded as she spoke, a little taken back, and grabbed onto a different subject. "What brought you to California?"

"I'm looking to solidify my investments. Working on a contract." He saw her eyes start to drop again, knowing that disinterest in such subjects was causing her attention to drift. No matter what he told her, she wasn't a business woman. She'd believe whatever he told her. "I also do investment counseling. Need someone to look over your portfolio? Manage a few loans?"

Her laugh was bitter, "My husband wouldn't know how to invest even if he took the time to look into it."

"My days are relatively free. Perhaps, I could arrange something to fit your schedule?" He felt her eyes on him, surveying the landscape, her head tilting in consideration. This was a woman who slipped into sin while looking sideways. The same way that she stocked up on expensive ice creams while appearing to shop for tofu. If she hadn't cheated on her husband already, she was simply looking for the excuse.

"My name's Sawyer. Sawyer Finn. And before you say it, yes. Yes. My mama was a fan of Twain." He laughed with her, watching her tuck the hair behind her ears again, letting her fingers linger near her neck. Looking sideways. Ready to step forward wherever Sawyer directed her. "My card." He handed it to her. Glad that the paper had time to cool since the printing that afternoon.

"Would you like to have a drink, Mr. Finn?" She asked, abruptly as if she'd decided to claim boldness. She wasn't a cheater, but she was unhappy. And he didn't doubt that some romance novel she'd read had given her the guts to make her move. "I have to take the groceries," Reality clouded her expression a moment as she looked at her car. "But we've got some excellent scotch in the liquor cabinet at home."

"Perhaps I could share my stock information with Mister..." Sawyer inquired with a gentle indifference, casually motioning with his hand.

"Doctor. Jack. Shepard. I'm Sarah." She shook her head and offered her hand under light laughter. After a brief pause, that Sawyer took easily, she added, "Jack won't be home. He left me a message that he's staying at the hospital."

"I could come at another time," Sawyer backed off. Women were too cautious to take him home after a first meeting. They had to have trust. Needed some level of intimacy. Even if they were pitching for a love affair. And any doctor that left a woman as handsome as Sarah home alone on a Friday night was seriously neglecting the missus. "Give me a call."

"Sure," she seemed relieved and worked to restrain her wayward hair with a slightly wistful expression. She started to move away with the cart.

"Here now," Sawyer chuckled. "I said I'd do that."

"Thank you."

He knew she was watching as he pushed the cart up to the store. Instinct hadn't failed him yet. And he let her leave a message on his cell phone the first time. She hadn't waited but three hours. Sitting home alone had given Sarah Shepard enough time to contemplate her actions.

***

Sawyer took in what he could of his surroundings, while gathering as many details as possible. Sarah had directed him to take a cab. Then she'd met him at the side of the three story house, grasping his hand like a conspiring school girl and taking him to the backyard where she'd brought the scotch. He looked up at the house, which was well lit from the outside as was the pool. A small balcony emerged from the second floor overlooking the pool and garden. The pool was framed by well trimmed bush that was taller than Sawyer. Sarah said that it was the front wall of a maze with the garden at the center. "He's a doctor, you say?"

"Just like his father." She tipped her glass of Edradour toward his in acknowledgment. The front of her t-shirt hugging her chest damp from their recent dip in the backyard pool. Her legs, shapely and folded over each other as the last half-hearted defense. Most of her blond hair was pulled back. The few loose pieces began to curl and stick to her chapped red cheeks, "Doesn't have a clue as to how one invests money."

"Well, I'll just have to show him my portfolio..."

"I want you to show me your portfolio," Sarah said, without an ounce of subterfuge. Sawyer raised his eyebrows and put on a lazy smile. He never ceased to be amazed at how frank a woman could be when she'd made up her mind. If he hadn't been playing for her, he'd almost be frightened by her lack of subtlety.

"Yes, ma'am," he had leaned in, watching her closely noticing her eyes had closed expectantly. He could see the resolved set to her eyebrows and paused. He wanted her to desire this, not approach it like a chore to solidify her marital defiance. "I would suggest taking a look at what your future needs would include. Investing these days is not for the faint of heart." He took in a breath, smelling mostly the chlorine and the lingering aroma of some expensive perfume that he hadn't experienced before. "I'd suggest expecting some exciting times. Some playful times. Some dangerous times." She trembled. Something was starting to click. Sawyer revised his strategy.

She wasn't looking to invest. She was wanting to break a marriage.

"How badly do you want him to hate you?" Sawyer asked.

"What?" Her eyes opened, taking a moment to focus given their proximity.

"Doctor... Jack," Sawyer said, letting his voice drop into low registers. "Think that holding another man over him will get his attention?"

She was still for a long breath. "I don't know what I want. I can't do what I need to do. I don't know what I need..."

She was starting to tear up and Sawyer, while feeling some empathy, wasn't keen on being any woman's psychologist. "Hang on," he rubbed his thumbs along either rosy cheek. "No crying on my watch," he swallowed the urge to verbalize her nickname. Sarah wasn't the sort to find endearment in a personalized insult.

"What are you?" she asked and all the while he could see her moment splintering. She was broken between tears and determination.

"Just your local con man, plain and simple," he didn't pull back from her, letting the closeness retain the former intimacy. She didn't seem alarmed at the truth.

"Well, Sawyer." Sarah sniffled once more and then steeled her gaze to meet his. "Perhaps we can be of assistance to each other."

***

He had been wrong. Sarah Shepard had not read paperback romance novels. She'd been into the dime-store variety of cheap mystery novels. She wanted to find some unforgivable and solid avenue by which she could betray her husband.

"One where his parents could label me the villain," Sarah said for the tenth time. Sawyer couldn't help but notice the emphasis. He was also mildly off put by her immediate disinterest in following through on their romantic endeavors. But Sarah was promising cash in his pocket and that was reward enough in the end.

"So is marriage to the guy so bad? He neglect you or something?" Sawyer asked lazily, scanning the foyer and hallway as Sarah let him inside. The wall had several framed pictures, signed trading cards from the Red Sox of all things. They turned into another room that was an office. A broken guitar in a box frame. Official papers, signed and sealed, filled one wall. No family pictures. He turned to run his fingers along the edge of an antique looking desk nearly covered with a mountain of papers and a quaint green plastic desk lamp. Doc Shepard was an odd mix.

"He's married to the idea of fixing people," Sarah said, with actual warmth in her description. "Although, he'd be the first to say he's inadequate. If I were to call him now and say I needed him, Jack would cancel his schedule and stay with me. But he doesn't... get it."

"He neglects you," Sawyer nodded.

Sarah began to pull open desk drawers, closed the top one and moved on to the second. Rummaging. "You don't understand. It's complicated."

"Sure, it's complicated." He glanced out the window noticing the pool directly below, dark grey marks where their bodies had soaked the concrete. And just beyond, he could see the definition of the garden maze. He started to scan the paths, when he heard Sarah make a sound of success.

"How much," She asked, unfolding the check ledger with one hand and pulling a fancy looking pen from a coffee mug with the other.

"Fifty grand," he said. Pursing his lips as she began to make out the check without haggling him down.

The plan was a variation of his favorite scam. Sarah would invite Jack to dinner with them both. Sawyer would propose the oil investment. Sarah would take up the offer, confident that the good Doctor would refuse her nothing, and disappear with her husband's cash in the end. She wouldn't seek terms on the divorce.

"I have to get out," she murmured. She showed him the check, made to draw cash. They were going to take a trip to the bank with just the right number of zeroes following that five.

"I can't say I'm not curious, Sugar," He knew the accent would let him get away with that one. "Why don't you stick around, live off the doc, and do your own thing?"

"What sort of con man, are you?" She asked bewildered.

"Safer if I know the details," Sawyer replied. "And I can't seem to figure what's so awful about living like this?"

"It's the ghosts, Sawyer," she said, her tone putting on indifference. "It's the ghosts of our children. Three miscarriages in the first two years of marriage? Sort of changes the landscape into something... unbearable."

***

He had never gone into a scam prepaid. The thought of skipping out had crossed his mind. Sarah would still have to account for the missing chunk of change and tick off the husband. But he could use the practice o his sales pitch on a straight man, and he was curious to see the good Doctor Shepard.

No dandruff on the shoulders. Tie perfect. Hair brushed back, for as long as that would last. He enjoyed chatter with the cab driver. The host confirmed that his party was waiting. The carpet was unexpectedly fine and when Sawyer looked up from the charming pattern, he took in the elegant tables, only sparsely populated. In the far corner, he saw Sarah. Her blonde hair again captured up in a clip. He wasn't surprised to see her hands working the bangs back behind her ears. Earrings sparkling. The dress was strapless pale blue.

Her husband has his back to the door. A vulnerable position for a grifter, but apparently not something that concerned a high ranked medical professional. The suit was pulled tight at the shoulders as Jack Shepard learned forward onto the table, one hand outstretched as if trying to explain something to his wife with the utmost of his attention.

She was nodding, put a hand over his, and looked up with a dazzling expectant smile. "Sawyer, this is my husband, Doctor Jack Shepard. Jack, Mr. Finn."

"Sawyer. Finn. Someone in your family liked Mark Twain." Jack turned slightly in his chair in order to offer a handshake. Whatever Sawyer had been expecting, he was scrambling to recalculate his execution. They made light pleasant conversation while Sawyer took his seat, sampled the wine they'd selected, discussed the California weather verses other regions in the south. Meanwhile, Sawyer was reconciling reality with his preconceived notions. First, Jack was insanely younger than he'd expected. Not that Sarah was old, but for the way she'd spoken of his experience in delicate medicines.

Next, he was trying to weigh the gentle humor of the man with the surly distant husband Sarah professed. Jack smiled easily, drank with comfort, conversed with a balance of intellect and wit, and did not seem as detached from his wife. Sarah, on the other hand, was a different woman. Gone were the pink rimmed eyes and the bitter tones. Sawyer suspected Sarah the best deceiver of the three. Her eyes sparkled and her lips were well glossed.

Eventually, Sawyer gathered that Jack kept a repertoire of ready stories for social gatherings. Not unpleasant or intentionally rehearsed, but well chewed. Dependable. In turn, the doctor was quite receptive to Sawyer's investment stories. Mostly taking his cues from Sarah who, as it turned out, knew how to play Jack's disinterest in money against him.

"Now, let me reassure you, in case you're afraid of taking the big option," Sawyer started, but found himself being overstepped by Jack's reserved chuckle.

"Don't worry, I'm sold. If Sarah's keen on the option, we'll take it. Besides, fear's a funny thing. In the medical profession it's a daily reality. I'm not in there playing God. I have what I've learned in school, tools and, hopefully, the intuition to stumble through to a cure. My first solo procedure..."

Sarah stood up suddenly, "I'm sorry darling, I'm going to visit the restroom. Excuse me. Sawyer." She nodded and gathering her decorative purse was gone.

"So you and Sarah," Sawyer leaned back in his chair, feeling the luxury of the surroundings and indulgent. "How did you meet?"

Jack paused, mouth partially open and if Sawyer wasn't seeing a flush creep up the doctor's neck. "Sarah was a patient of mine, originally."

"And you fixed her up?" Sawyer fought to keep his tongue in his mouth and give away the game. But something about the evening's con felt odd. Different even from what he anticipated.

"Yes," Jack was becoming wary, although his even temper was counteracting the disease of Sawyer's questions.

"Well, you appear very happy together." Sawyer reached for his drink, prepared to savor the taste along with the light testing. He was feeling rather deviant just then. Like breaking up how smoothly the evening was going. Maybe Sarah thought she was getting what she wanted. Perhaps the Doctor covered up his emotions when it came to their lost children. But why wouldn't she want to reconcile with an amiable boyscout with a little wealth and security? She wasn't looking for a physical affair, or Sawyer would have known that for sure.

"We're lucky that way." Jack reflexively reached for _his_ drink. Perhaps he was simply imitating Sawyer's movement. Perhaps it was another cover up. Jack turned in his seat, the suit twisting awkwardly to allow for the movement. He was looking for Sarah, who wasn't within sight. Sitting back, Jack took another drink. Sawyer noticed again the odd stubble along Jack's jaw. Then noticed patterns of weariness around his eyes.

Sawyer wondered if Sarah wasn't the one who wanted out of the marriage.

"I've only spoke with Sarah about business, but she never mentioned any little dividends. Are there any little Shepards scampering about?" Sawyer asked letting the question sound casual.

Jack's brow furrowed, the man couldn't hide a reaction, "Not yet. We would like to at some point. Sarah would like to have children." Jack was smiling again, but with obvious walls of caution building. "Are you married, Mr. Finn?"

"Sawyer, please. And no." Sawyer took a drink before adding, "Haven't been able to keep a Mrs. Finn for very long. Not my style." Jack seemed confused by this answer. "I'm enjoying the bachelor's life. I've yet to see a thick and thin, better or worse marriage."

"Hmm," Jack nodded, reciting. "Marriage is a commitment."

"And I reckon you're the sort of guy that follows through on his commitments," Sawyer sat forward with a jolly chortle. He set his glass down heavily on the table, and the room seemed very still except for the Doctor and himself. Good men made his teeth ache. And Sawyer felt the alcohol going to his head with an unexpected corresponding sickness in his stomach.

"I love Sarah," Jack spoke the words like a confession. "I won't let our marriage fail."

"Yeah, well." Sawyer let his tongue loose and licked at his lip, glancing around the room. "Last I knew, it took two to tango. Where did Sarah go?"

Jack seemed taken back by the change of texture in Sawyer's comment, but it was quickly overwhelmed as Jack glanced around the room for his wife. The doctor couldn't help but think the best of people, which Sawyer couldn't decide if he found annoying or endearing. After consulting the host, Jack returned to the table and said, "She's probably gone home. She took a cab. She must not be feeling well."

You keep telling yourself that, Sawyer thought while standing up. "Then lets take this conversation back to the house." Feeling oddly generous, he picked up the check. Doctor Shepard was going to have the worst evening of his life.

Jack seemed puzzled again, but wasn't putting the pieces together between the two sides that Sawyer kept waffling between. The good husbands never would. But Sawyer suspected that Jack was the good husband that never should have been. When Jack didn't move from where he stood, Sawyer motioned with his hands. "After you, Doc."

***

Sawyer would like to have thought it was the alcohol, but he couldn't shut up for the entire cab ride. Something about Jack's silence unnerved the con man. Good people were rare. And irritating. He talked about a fictitious encounter he had with a sleepwalking girlfriend. The story was often one he'd pull from the pocket when he needed to get a sober man to lighten up, "Then she turned right to me and said, _'I had a better lay with my girlfriend Sheila.'_..." But after a few self directed chuckles, Sawyer resigned himself to staring at the Doc who was apparently transfixed by his reflection in the cab window.

Evening. The Shepard house seemed to illuminate from within except for the consistent dark of the windows. Sarah was gone.

Sawyer rolled the thought around as he followed Jack along every corridor and into every room of the three stories. They left through the back door, circling the pool. Jack behaved like a man who'd misplaced his gloves.

"She's not here," Jack spoke to himself having not paid any attention to Sawyer at any point since arriving at the house.

"What if I told you she'd left?" Sawyer asked, assuming indifference. Sarah had set up the deal. Then she'd bolted, leaving her con man with her husband. What roll could he play but that of the detective who reveals the plot in the last pages? Why all the effort to leave without the cash?

Jack turned, his tie loosened, the jacket unbuttoned. His eyes were initially unseeing, but then focused, "Sawyer." He said, then nodded. Rubbed his fingers along his lips while nodding, thinking, coming up with a diagnosis. He sniffed a deep rough breath, then turned back to Sawyer. "Did she sleep with you?"

"Well, that's an odd way to ask..." Sawyer jawed, buying time to leave the doctor wondering the answer. "No. I didn't sleep with her."

"Hmm," Jack nodded again, putting his hands on his hips causing the sides of his suit to flip up and back. "Were you involved? Romantically, I mean?"

"What?" Sawyer couldn't believe the Doctor was stuck on that. "No. She wanted me to run a scam. While she could snatch a chunk of mad money and split. Except, she skipped out a little sooner than the pay off." The last words couldn't hide bewilderment.

Jack nodded, the light from the pool causing odd shadows on his face, hiding the expression. Sawyer shifted his weight, wondering what exactly he'd gotten himself into. Sarah had said it was complicated. She was leaving, because Jack wouldn't leave her. She didn't cheat. She didn't steal. Perhaps she did love the Doc. And he didn't seem obviously heartbroken over it.

"She's gone," Jack said, then glanced around as if he could tangibly see the words he'd spoke slip away into the night. "She's gone and..."

"And you don't seem right broken up over it," Sawyer scoffed.

"No, I..." Jack tilted his head in a strange imitation of Sarah. Considering. And Sawyer realized that it was never sin that Sarah was contemplating. It was release. Escape. For Jack.

Jack spoke again, "I think this is okay. Did she seem happy?" He asked, running his hands along the edges of the bush, pausing to consider a dark individual leaf. Tugged at it lightly.

"Nothing needing fixed," Sawyer shrugged and the comment satisfied Jack so that the doctor actually grinned.

"I suppose that means there's only one thing left to fix," Jack said matter-of-fact, and disappeared into the maze.

"Fantastic," Sawyer growled, curiosity raking his spirit. Had Sarah guessed that his damn childish desire to figure things out would lead him this far with Jack? Or that his innate urge to keep secrets only to reveal them would prompt Sawyer to give up the details of Sarah's game? His feet sank into the plush grass carpeting the maze. He knew so much from his observations to head left. Then back to the right. Turning away from the house. But soon the walls of vegetation were too thick and too tall for him to orient himself with the location of the building. He had taken a right then two lefts which meant that he should be pointing...

"Jack!" Sawyer shouted, vexed. After a long moment's silence, he yelled again. "Jack!"

Then a touch of hands. Sawyer spun around, just barely seeing Jack's toothy smile in the dark.

"This way," Jack seemed enormously amused. Leading a grumbling, slouched Sawyer back the way the he'd been. Only, instead of going back to the pool, Sawyer found the path opening up to reveal the center. He could vaguely make out the shapes of flowers lining a grass path. In the center was a large marble statue of two genderless people reaching for each other around a pillar. One spotlight provided some light, a second small light appeared to have a dead bulb.

And to one side was a swing set. Askew, as the chain holding the seat was broken.

Sawyer glanced around, unimpressed. Then startled as Jack silently dropped on his back, arms spread out. This man was far too young or ridiculous to be a doctor. He hardly was the same person from dinner.

"Okay. They let you operate on people?" Sawyer voice his observation.

Jack stifled a laugh that sounded suspiciously like an intoxicated giggle. "The first grand disillusionment. Doctors are people too."

"Huh." Sawyer decided to save that thought for another time, again shifting his weight. The night air was refreshing. The center of the maze felt safe. Secured. A peculiar contrast of art and childhood. With a boyish doctor in control of it all.

Outside was the job. The weight of history. Failures. Brief success. Inescapable.

He knew it wasn't any different for Jack. All they had was that moment in which it didn't matter who they were. Sawyer crossed over to stand near Jack's head. The doctor raised his eyebrows, his chin uplifted and inquisitive. Kneeling, Sawyer smirked and Jack smiled in response. Even in this place no one could resist his charm.

It was all too easy.

"What are you doing?" Jack asked, his voice breaking pitch from shock. Reflexively wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, where Sawyer had kissed him.

"Collecting on your ex's unpaid debt. She owed me one," Sawyer stood and casually stretched, taking a deep breath knowing that all too soon he'd forget how this place felt. He idly dropped a business card. "The number will be good for another week or so."

He sauntered to the edge of the maze's center and paused, defeated. "Some help here, Jackass."

The only response was another poorly hidden laugh.


End file.
